by Travis Casey

Created on: February 26, 2009   Last Updated: June 19, 2010

Part of the way I earn my living is by fitting bathrooms. When things are going well, I buy a house, gut it, and then rebuild it redoing every room in the house. Kitchens, bedrooms and of course bathrooms. When it's all finished, I sell the house.

Then there are the times when I've finished the house and am waiting for it to sell, or am looking for a house to do up but just haven't found the right one yet. During these times, I advertise to fit kitchen or bathrooms for other people.

Most of the houses I do up are probate sales. So I never meet the people or person who used to live there, which helps when I'm is ripping out toilets. I just close my mind and get on with it.

In one of my down times, I received a call from a lady with regard to my ad. We arranged a time for me to come around and give her a quote for fitting a new bathroom. Upon arrival in this less than salubrious neighbourhood, I was greeted by the lady of the house at the front door.

Ohhh, she was unfortunate looking woman. Her three locks of hair looked lush compared to her tooth. Just one tooth, front dead centre. I was surprised she could walk considering she must have been carrying around 300 pounds. And her body shape was the epitome of a Kentucky Fried Chicken barrel. I guessed her to be about sixty, but if she told me she had just received a telegram from the Queen to mark her hundredth birthday, I would have believed her. She was a walking advertisement as to why men drink.

It never ceases to amaze me; people know a stranger is about to come into their home, yet fail to prepare for this intrusion. So into the bathroom I'm led. Towels, dirt and debris slung everywhere. And that was only where I looked, as I tried not to look anywhere I didn't have to. I measured up and engaged her in small chit chat, and then headed for the exit as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Needless to say, I didn't really want the job. So I priced it so high that I wouldn't get it. She called me up a few days later ever so excited. "I got your quote. Yes, that seems fine. When can you start"? Somehow, when hell freezes over didn't seem the appropriate answer.

The morning of starting the job, I began the 20 minute journey to what was to become my workplace. As I said earlier, when I don't see who's waste I am about to handle, it's not a problem. But this was a different kettle of carp. I drove over, mentally preparing myself for what I was about to undertake. My pep talk was along the lines of, "Now, don't think about it. You've done dozens of toilets before. Just whip the toilet out, get the new one in and the worst will be over. Yes, definitely. Get the toilet over and done with and then I can just think of the large payout at the end of the job. That's the sequence: toilet, bath, sink. Job done".

I arrived at her house and she showed me in. She led me into the bathroom and I was pleasantly surprised. It had been completely cleared out and appeared to be very clean. I noticed it had been freshened up and there was even a pleasant smell. Suddenly, I thought, 'this won't be so bad after all'.

"Sorry about the smell" she said. "I had a bit of an upset tummy this morning so I had to spray air freshener around. I think I ate a dodgy curry last night".

"Right, I'm going to start with your bathtub today".

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